


Quiet

by antlur



Series: Growing Pains [2]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-01-24 02:45:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18562351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/antlur/pseuds/antlur
Summary: written for day one of beau week, 2019 // animals.professor thaddeus better be living his best life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> camp nano warmup // not edited!  
> hyped beau week is happening now! great way to wind down from my camp project.

_“Fuck.”_

It hurts more than it really should, she’s _used_ to everyone leaving her anyways, does what she can to guard against that… but fuck she can’t even keep a stupid _pet_.

One more shot, maybe she’ll get lucky and that jerk of an owl will swoop down and bit her again, _“Professor?”_

But it’s quiet, still, not even a break in the skyline, no terrifying owl screech she had started to get used to, no lessening of the little ball of loneliness worming its way into her chest.

The whole situation spiraled out of control so quickly, she should have just let that arrow hit her, kept up the rouse. Maybe then he’d still be here glaring at her in surly distaste.

He could be hurt, all because she couldn’t just suck it up and take one stupid arrow, or _dead_ for that matter… simply because she had to pick _this_ night to bring him along instead of leaving him in Marion’s care… or with the coat guy’s whatever.

Maybe her mum was right, maybe she’s just not a good person to own a pet.

The tears piss her off even more, leaving hot trails in the dried sweat on her face, but at least she’s alone for the moment…

Or not, as she catches the sound of footfalls to her side.

Beau scrubs at her face, hoping that she’s managed to conceal the teary snotty mess she’s made of herself before she turns to see who felt brave enough to invade her what she thought was very clearly defined _“leave me alone”_ bubble.

Trying not to snap right away, but very much not in the mood for company right now, until she realises who the intruder is. The pale skin nearly glowing in the moonlight stalls the biting words on the tip of her tongue, wanting to fight and push back against the lurking vulnerability but also wanting to be _close_ to this woman she still doesn’t know much about.

“Are- are you alright Beau?” the concern in that voice, those softly questioning eyes are not what she wants right now despite the spark of pleasure at the fact that Yasha even bothered to come ask.

“Never better.” She really hopes that comes out as steady as she wanted it too but the _look_ Yasha gives her says otherwise. “Crazy night, huh?” she’s great at deflecting, especially with this group, but Yasha does something to her… just being near the taller woman leaves her annoyingly tongue-tied on the best of days and awkwardly stilted otherwise.

Beau sighs at the continued silence and challenging arch of an eyebrow, turning to look out over the water again, not sure she’ll ever get used to the way it seems to stretch on forever, leaning against the… rail? Bow? Whatever fancy boat name this part of the ship has.

Yasha moves up next to her, mirroring her position, nearly close enough for them to be touching.

“It’s just…” a deep breath to grab ahold of the bravado that she’s normally got in spades, “Professor Thaddeus didn’t… he’s _gone_ .” Beau forces the word out and it _hurts_ , screwing her eyes shut against the wave of sorrow that threatens to consume her.

“Beau…”

Eyes blinking open, feeling that wet dampness but refusing to let the tears fall. Beau catches the raised hand out of the corner of her eye, breath catching and holding at the gesture, equal parts wanting that touch but not wanting the offered comfort.

But Yasha hesitates, hand dropping back to her side, “You’ve called for him?”

She snorts at that, eyes rolling, but nodding in response while the quiet stretches out between them for another long stretch of moments before Yasha clears her throat and calls the damn owls name into the wind.

They both stop, glancing towards the skyline, Beau trying to keep a stranglehold on the hope bubbling to the surface. He had seemed to like Yasha, not as much as Ducey but more than her at least…

But the quiet stretches on with no sign of him and Yasha gives her a sad smile, “Guess not… Sorry, Beau. It really seemed like you two were… getting along?”

That startles a real laugh out of the monk, “Not sure I’d go _that_ far with it. A… mutual understanding maybe? I’d give him food and _sometimes_ he wouldn’t draw blood when he took it.”

Yasha bumps shoulders with her then, “You two had that regal pose down if nothing else.” Said with a handsome smile directed Beau’s way.

“Yeah?” she puffs up a bit at that. At least _Yasha_ noticed.

The taller woman just nods in response, cheeks pinked just a bit as she turns back to look out across the ocean, “Maybe we’ll see him again when we come back.”

_Probably not_ Beau thinks but doesn’t voice. The loss hurts a bit less now, having shared it with Yasha instead of bottling it all up as she had intended.

She’ll still miss him, dickish glare and all, but with luck, he’s off living his best asshole owl life and rejoicing not being stuck on this stupid ship. They’ve still got Nugget, safely in the care of Jester's mum and… Frosting? Sparkle? Whatever that stupid weasels’ name is… and hell maybe Caleb will let her hang out with Frumpkin for a bit, can’t lose him.

“At least now we only have to worry about Nott eating Sprinkle, huh?”

Ah, right _Sprinkle_. The comment pulls a totally unattractive snort from Beau, “Yeah! Good point Yasha. All for the best at least where Sprinkle is concerned.”

Yasha bumps shoulders with her again as their giggles die down, both lapsing into a comfortable silence as the ship drifts further out to sea.


	2. Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> written for day two of beau week, 2019 // brawl

She’d thrown the first punch without really thinking about it, an instinctive reaction to the brief flare of aggression from Yasha, giving in to the urge to lash out and _hurt_ someone else, an outlet for the anger she’d been forced to suppress all day.

Dairon’s words echoing in her mind as her fist connects, _Patience._

The cheers and chuckles reach her ears and there’s a reassuring moment where Beau realises she’s likely _not_ going to end up arrested for starting a fight. _Best city ever._

There’s a flash of pain as a fist seemingly larger than her head connects with her chest, throwing her back and nearly knocking the wind out of her as her back connects with a wall.

_Patience._

Yeah sure she could be patient, take a breath and walk away, offer apologies to the large grey skinned figure, not like Yasha really needed Beau to defend her honour.

_Patience._

She could, but fuck does this feel good. Letting go, lashing out, even that heavy throb of what is sure to be a wicked bruise forming on her chest.

Beau doesn’t want to be patient, not now, instead she uses the wall to leverage herself up, throwing another punch towards a tusked mouth. Feeling the skin split on the tooth but satisfied with the grunt of pain, so distracted that she doesn’t catch the tell or see the fist aimed at her head until it’s too late to react.

Eyes clenched, resigned, ready to follow the weight of it to lessen the damage and hoping that she doesn’t end up with a broken jaw or concussion, but the pain never comes.

Yasha’s just _there._

The figure is bigger than her as well but the pale woman has a grasp on that large forearm, stopping its momentum.

Everything is kind of a blur after that, as tends to happen. The breaking of glass, the intermingling shouts and cheers, the smell of blood and alcohol in the air.

They get thrown out after a point, drunken spectators trailing along behind them, the fresh air clearing the haze enough that Beau finally takes that deep breath, wills herself to practise some _patience_ so that she at the very least doesn’t cause a total scene out on the streets.

Then they’re alone as the crowd slowly disperses. Yasha with her head tilted back against the wall of the building, the massive figure standing at her shoulder mopping the blood off their face.

“You throw a mean punch.” it’s a thick heavy drawl the words clearly, slowly enunciated. “Not bad for a _human_.”

Beau smirks back, having to look up at the densely muscled figure.

“You hers?” The red eyes stay locked on her though the figure nods towards Yasha’s form as she lingers by the door.

Beau chances a glance back over her shoulder at the silent figure, “Nah.” Had the day gone any differently Beau probably would have been content to play into that a bit, but they’re freaking _heroes_ and she’s very much tired of the mere idea of _belonging_ to anyone.

“Curious,” they say, head cocked to the side.

“Watch it, buddy. I _will_ kick your ass again.” She catches Yasha straightening as well, smiles a little at that, knowing the taller woman’s got her back.

There’s a genuine, throaty chuckle from the form as they turn and spit a massive glob of blood and spit onto the ground in front of them. They look at Beau again then back towards Yasha before tapping the side of a somewhat crooked nose, “woulda thought otherwise.”

Beau has no idea what that means or what it's hinting at but Yasha seems to almost growl at the gesture. Moving forward to flank Beau, clearly _challenging_ that massive form.

_“Meg venn.”_ The low guttural tones are strange, ones she’s not heard from Yasha, but the grey-skinned figure bows their head, hands raised in supplication.

“Rogt.” They say after a tense moment of silence.

“Yasha.” Yasha’s body is still tense next to her and Beau is still not quite sure either of them is above throwing another punch.

Then both figures are looking down at her, Yasha with a raised brow and the taller form smirking, “ _Oh!_  Right, Beau.”

A meaty hand gives her what was likely meant as a ‘gentle’ pat on the back but nearly knocks her right off her feet, “Good fight, Beau.”


	3. Speak

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> established beauyasha.  
> super vague dairon/leylas mentions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for day three of beau week, 2019 // modern au + dairon

“Thought you were avoiding me.”

Beau huffs in response while flopping down into the grass next to Yasah. She had kind of hoped to not be called on it, at least not yet, there's a lot of jumbled emotions and it had been far simpler to just _ignore_ them. Focus on her classes and training… even if that meant avoiding all of her friends and her girlfriend for most of the week.

“Sorry.” and she is. Yasha is incredibly understanding, doesn't push but also won't let Beau avoid for too long without addressing things. She tries hard not to take advantage of that but old habits and unhealthy coping still crop up far more often than she'd really like to admit though she does her best to own up to it, at least where Yasha is concerned.

Yasha doesn't say anything but does shift her journal to one thigh, still sketching lazily but a clear offer for more contact and non-verbal acknowledgment and forgiveness.

Letting out a small sigh of relief Beau shifts close enough to rest her head on a jean covered leg, careful not to disturb or jostle, eyes tracing along a well-defined jaw and the disordered tangle of hair haphazardly pulled back over one shoulder.

Yasha brings her free hand up to rest on her stomach, attention never shifting off whatever it is she's drawing though Beau knows she's got her full attention should she want to talk.

Which she knows they should do but not yet. Instead, they float in the comfortable silence for a long while, Beau taking the time to indulge in a rare moment of being able to just look without making her girlfriend uncomfortable with the attention.

They'd only been dating “officially” for a few months but the long years of a solid, genuine friendship had helped form a comfortable understanding of each other that made moments like this all the more soothing.

Yasha _got_ her. Understood her better than even her closest of friends, and she's so very serious about this… which was Dairon's point but _still._

The sun is starting to set and Yasha has finished at least three sketches by the time Beau’s managed to screw up her courage, “Dairon wants to have dinner with us.”

Dairon was a hardass, cautious, and hadn't changed much in the years since becoming Beau's guardian, but they cared. As content as they are to let Beau do her own thing, especially once she'd left for university, they were big on making sure Beau didn't hide or stifle her feelings… Which seemed hypocritical as all hell considering that Dairon was _still_ alone despite the years of them and Leylas dancing around each other.

They had met the whole group on numerous occasions over the years, probably knew Yasha better than all of them considering her and Zuala had basically been living at the house at one point. But this was different, as Darion smugly pointed out earlier in the week. The sudden loss of Zuala and Molly had shaken the whole group, Yasha wasn't the same angry kid she had been then, now more prone to a muted intensity and Dairon was adamant about wanting to have the chance to get to know her again if things were getting serious.

Beau recognised that it was as close as either of them would get to admitting to being family and caring _about_ each other. She gets that it's as much wanting to get to know Yasha again as it is them wanting to reinforce that they care about Beau and an acknowledgment that something so important to Beau was important to them too.

It’s just a lot. Dairon has never quite been a parent, hadn’t ever really slipped out of the role of coach and teacher, and it had really never occurred to Beau that they’d even want to do… this whole “dinner with your partner/meet the parent” thing.

“Okay.”

The response startles her out of her thoughts, Yasha is still focused on her journal though Beau notices that her hand has stilled, “ _Okay?_ Just like that?”

A shrug of a shoulder and light scratch from the fingertips still resting on her stomach, “Did - did you not _want_ to?”

That’s a good question actually, did she actually want to? She shoulda just talked to Yasha from the start instead of trapping herself in this situation, “No?”

Yasha does look towards her then, brow arched, waiting. Beau closes her eyes, deep breaths like Dairon is always telling her, sort out her thoughts and figure out what she’s _actually_ feeling instead of what she wants everyone to _believe_ she’s thinking.

She scrubs at her face with one hand, “I dunno… I _guess_ it would be alright.”

A soft touch against her arm and she’s looking up into soft eyes, “then we’ll have dinner with them.”

There’s a lot of feelings, jumbled emotions fighting to be made sense of but Beau is done with processing for now, “can I see your drawings?”

With a smile the intensity of the moment vanishes, Yasha tilts the current page so she can see the soft charcoal markings that make up _her_ face, half shaded with a clearly troubled look on the features.

Beau rolls her eyes in Yasha’s direction, not quite hating the blush she can feel warming her cheeks, tangling her fingers with the pale ones that have managed to ruck up the hem of her shirt.

“We should invite Professor Kryn,” with a smirk thrown her way as Yasha brushes bits of grass out of her hair.

That’s brilliant, why didn’t she think of that? “I like the way you think! If Dairon wants to be all supportive and shit I’ll show her I can be supportive too.”

A laugh from Yasha as she tucks the journal back into her bag, “It’s not a competition, Beauregard.”

“Yeah, yeah obviously.” Distractedly pulling her mobile from her pocket to shoot a quick message off to Dairon, “but if it _was_ I’d totally win right?”

“Right,” as Yasha tilts her head up for a kiss.  


	4. Hypothetically

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vague beauyasha, as always.
> 
> why should she be obligated to care?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for day four of beau week, 2019 // family ties

“Can I ask you something?” out into the quiet that has descended around them, the rocking of the ship threatening to lull her into sleep.

Yasha bumps shoulders with her again, head tilted in answer.

A moment to trace her eyes over moonlit features, “I’d ask Jester but…” a shrug as Beau looks back out over the dark water, “I get the feeling she’d react the same way Fjord did. And I - I guess I trust you to be honest with me.”

Yasha shifts next to her, close enough now that to touch.

“if, _hypothetically,_ ” smiling at the soft snort of amusement from her right. “ _Hypothetically_ , if I had a… _sibling_ ... That I’d never met. Who just happened to be the _Boy_ that my parents had always wanted, a fact that my father was never shy of stating. And if say, _hypothetically_ , his birth resulted in my parents formally disowning me… would it make me a terrible person if I…”

It’s a lot, even just thinking about it. She’d detached so much that telling Fjord hadn’t seemed like a big deal, until his comments. There’s just so much anger, disappointment, but also indifference and it’s all just a jumbled mess that is hard to sort out.

“If?” Yasha prods, voice soft, gentle fingers circling around her wrist.

It’s hard to get the words out, she’s so _angry_ , but not at them… not at _him_ , but at Fjord and his words and attempts to guilt.

“If I didn’t care about them?” Turning to look at the taller woman again.

Yasha is quiet for a long while, her fingers still gently clasped around Beau’s wrist, a charged silence that isn’t wholly uncomfortable.

“Blood… blood doesn’t mean everything, doesn’t _have_ to mean everything.” that grip tightens for a moment as Yasha looks back out over the water, “With the war - you haven’t really mentioned them before, were you worried?”

There’s a puzzled look thrown her way. This doesn’t feel quite as judgemental coming from Yasha as it had coming from Fjord, the soft confusion on her face is genuine and not tinged with the offended disbelief she’d gotten from the half-orc.

Beau breaks the eye contact, taking a deep breath and trying to give that question some real thought now that it isn’t followed by the instinctual need to defend herself, her feelings. Was she worried about them? Was she anymore worried about them than she was any other family in any other town? Was she worried about her parents or perhaps just her sibling?

She’s thankful for Yasha’s quiet presence, the shared body heat keeping the night chill at bay, that steading touch still lightly grasping her wrist, “Honesty? No. Not anymore worried about them than I am about any of the people I grew up with that are still in Kamordah.”

Catches Yasha’s nod out of the corner of her eye, worried for a moment that she may have judged this wrong and is about to receive yet another guilt ripping lecture. But she stays quiet, a somewhat distant look on her face, eyes not quite focused and present when Beau makes an attempt at eye contact.

It felt so good to say that out loud, felt so good to admit that to someone.

“Beau?” the touch leaves and her heart sinks for a moment before a soft hand rests on her jaw, “I don’t think it makes you a bad person.”

There’s a long moment where she thinks Yasha might kiss her but it ends as the ship lurches, startling them both. Beau swallows thickly as they resettle on the deck, still close enough to share a bit of heat but no longer touching, “Thanks Yasha.”


	5. Charmed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> not so vague beauyasha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for day five of beau week, 2019 // lesbian pride - falling in love

It’s the quiet, broken  _ I’m Sorry  _ that does it, causes her heart to skip and a warm weight to drop down over her.

Yasha’s bruised and bloody face, the trembling hand gripping her wrist, everything had been spiraling out of control, things were  _ not good _ but at that moment as the interestingly coloured eyes finally,  _ finally _ clear, the knowledge of what those tangled feelings have been building to comes shining through.

Shit. 

This is the last thing she’d ever planned for, never wanted any sort of solid commitment, never wanted to  _ feel _ this much about anyone. But now really wasn’t the time, so she stuffs it down like everything else, one last look towards Yasha before she moves to tuck into a corner of the wall and out of the way. Very much looking forward to watching the angry woman lay finally put some hurt down on someone that  _ isn’t  _ their friends.

Plenty of time later to… process.

Or not as it works out. Later that night absolutely covered in blood and gore huddled in Caleb’s magic dome, Yasha tugs her off to a corner, as far away as they can logically manage without leaving the safety quiet words exchanged more nonsensical murmurs than anything.

Yasha’s hand cups her face, tilting it, checking to see if she’s truly hurt under all the drying blood. The apologies keep coming, more than anything else, and Beau is tempted to quiet them like she usually would but it feels…  _ this _ , this attention from Yasha, the softness and the concern, it feels good. Too good to give up yet, so very sure that this is as close as they’re ever going to get to something deeper.

Beau does reassure her though, quietly telling her that it’s  _ fine _ , that Yasha never  _ actually _ hurt her much as she chased her around. Offering up her own gentle though hesitant touches on the deep bruising forming on that pale face, as much from her own hand and staff as anything else, heart skipping when Yasha leans into it.

They’re both exhausted but  _ wired _ , Beau has no idea how anyone other than Duce has managed to fall asleep and she can see the answering blood lust lurking in Yasha’s eyes. 

She’s giddy on top of everything, bittersweet as it is, resigned though content with the fact that she’s falling in love with someone that can’t or  _ won’t _ ever return those feelings. She wants to kiss her so badly, wants to drag the barbarian out of this bubble with their friends so they can be alone and work off some of this energy, wants to go spar with Yasha so that she doesn’t have that look of disconnected rage directed at her haunting her every time she closes her eyes.

  
But she’s just as happy to settle with this, covered in blood, in too small quarters surrounded by her  _ friends _  and the woman she feels so much for and about, trading quiet words and exhausted chuckles.


	6. Leaving

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i mean, i'm a creature of habit.. vague beauyasha as usual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for day six of beau week, 2019 // cobalt soul

She had hated it there, all the pinched faces and stuffy attitudes. Had hated her father for having them take her, her mother for standing by and letting it happen. Hated that the monks didn’t understand her any better than her parents did that they kept trying to force her into this role of a perfect student, studious apprentice. 

But she hadn’t hated all of it, not the library filled to the brim with all sorts of obscure and interesting secrets, not the training and learning how to fight, not the escape from parents that had only ever looked at her in disappointment. 

Leaving had been harder than she’d expected it to be, but what choice did she have? The memory of that letter still crumpled in her fist with the words still fresh in her mind. She’d done them a favour right? She hadn’t been a particularly good student, had seen more than a handful of the Monks sign in resignation whenever they had to work with her, and her parents sure as hell hadn’t wanted her once they had their long-awaited baby boy.

So Beau had decided that she’d leave, disappear, she was good at that at least. Good at lying and blending in, good at working the system in her favour. And at least that why she hadn’t had to wait for them to kick her out, this life-altering decision was finally on  _ her _ terms. For once in her life  _ she _ had been the one to decide what direction her life should go, no parents to worry about disappointing and no Monks to worry about letting down.

Ditching the robes had been the hardest part but a girl couldn’t really wander around in Cobalt Blue if she was trying to  _ not _ be linked to the Cobalt Soul. Beau remembered playing with the fabric a bit, how final it had all felt.

Much as she hated to give him any credit, the best thing her Father had ever done for her was having her brought there. She’d gotten access to more knowledge than she’d ever dreamed of, learned how to fight in a way that was more refined than a bar brawl, and on the rare occasion she had a Monk working with her that  _ got _ her things had been pretty great.

Beau remembered tucking the sash back around her waist, making sure the colour and markings were as well hidden as possible before ducking out of her assigned room. It hadn’t mattered, hadn’t mattered how good that could have been, leaving on her own terms was going to save her the pain of being forced to leave at someone else's behest.

 

She’d camped out that night in some small grove of trees as far away from Zadash as her feet had been willing to carry her, alone, dirty, but  _ free _ . She’d even managed a small campfire on her own, spread out her new bedroll, and spent a long while working through the movements she had been taught the week before. Remembered how sleep was hard to come by, every little sound startling her awake, and the thought to how crap travelling alone was going to be. 

But she hadn’t been worrying too much, keen to trade some sleepless nights for the freedom to just go wherever the fuck she pleased, to not have a parent or Monk shouting at her to do something  _ they _ want her to do.

Had very much been looking forward to where this new road would take her, one  _ she’d _ chosen for herself.

 

And boy had it taken her to some interesting places, let her meet some fascinating people, lead her to loss and suffering along with joy and accomplishment. And, as Beau looks over towards Yasha’s sleeping form while she finally starts tucking her notes and  _ that  _ piece of fabric away, that decision had lead her into this space with  _ this _ specific person… so maybe she didn’t hate the Cobalt Soul that much at all. 


	7. Keepsakes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> vague beauyasha, obviously ~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> written for day seven of beau week, 2019 // keepsakes
> 
> short drabble to finish off camp/beauweek!

She’d always been a collector, grabbing little things that piqued her attention and tucking them away in a pocket or bag whenever she had the chance, simpler to take them out to study later.

Beau isn’t quite sure when pocketing random interesting things switched to tucking away things that felt important or reminded her of someone.

She had one of the little dicks Jester had drawn with her fancy paint tucked away in one of her various pockets, a shaved bit of the Ball-Eater, a growingly more stale bit of chocolate, along with a handful of other things that reminded her of her friends or the people they’d met and been close to along the way.

Nila’s feather is one of the few she keeps on open display, still attached to her Bo, now accompanied by the stupid _bow_ tied onto the end.

The wrapping from an unsmoked cigarette is tucked alongside that note from Keg.

One of Molly’s cards and a bit of dirt from his grave tucked deep, deep in the bottom of a pocket.

A small sliver of that stupid bowl along with a bit of oil and soot-covered bone.

One of Professor Thaddeus’ feathers tucked alongside a dried bit of mushroom.

But that bit of petrified tree, the one that reminds her of Yasha, is the one that stays close yet out of sight. Sewn into the inside of her boot, mostly ignored but never fully forgotten as the edge places just the smallest bit of uneven pressure against her knee.

A constant reminder of storms, of thunder and lightning, of the rocking emptiness whenever Yasha leaves, but also the comforting reminder that she'll come back.


End file.
